


More Than A Recurring Shag

by afteriwake



Series: The Consulting Detective And His Brother's PA [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Anthea Background, BAMF Anthea (Sherlock), Background Case, Bullet Injury, Developing Relationship, Established Anthea/Sherlock Holmes, Eventual Anthea/Sherlock Holmes, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hurt Sherlock, Implied Sexual Content, Injury, Major Character Injury, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft IS the British Government, POV Sherlock Holmes, Protective Mycroft, Secret Relationship, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-28 22:39:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: For a little while, Sherlock and Anthea have had a routine: work a case together, shag in the aftermath. But something happens this time that changes the entire dynamic of their relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solrosan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/gifts).



> This was my entry for the 2017 Winter round of Holmestice.

“You have a case,” Anthea said, moving into the sitting room at Baker Street and sitting in Sherlock’s chair as though it was hers. Which, technically, she had staked claim to it months prior, when it all started.

What “it” was, Sherlock wasn’t entirely sure.

It had started with a kiss on a shared case and a shag afterward. He had not thought much of it, not because it wasn’t _good_ but because he had expected it to be a one-off. A never to be repeated event. So when she came to Baker Street with another case that she would be helping on, _that_ piqued his interest. Would there be a repeat of events? Would there be another kiss in the face of danger and mutual release afterward?

The answer had been yes. That was when he wondered if twice would become thrice. Or rather, he _hoped_ it would. Partly to tweak his brother’s nose, filching the amorous attentions of his PA, but also because few people were tolerable to him in the way Anthea was. Irene might be the closest, but that _had_ only been once and he wasn’t inclined to continue. If Anthea wanted this to become a thing...well, he had less resistance to the idea.

And it did, though now he wasn’t sure what this _thing_ between them was.

But for the moment, a case.

She held up a manila folder and he swept by her, taking it from between his fingers and looking at it. “I have the feeling you pick these cases so we have semblances of dates,” he said, not looking up from the file.

“Why Sherlock, what gave you that idea?” she said in dry amusement. “I don’t need dates. I just need...substance.”

That got his attention, and he turned to look at her. “What do you mean by substance?”

She bit her lip at the corner of her mouth for a moment before she replied. “I need to be involved in more than just...sex,” she said. “I need to feel as though I have something to _give_. You're addicted to the rush, the thrill of the case. So am I. So I give you cases and we solve them together and celebrate afterward.”

He nodded slowly at that. In a way, what she said made sense, but it worried him. She had all the training of an MI-6 agent, Mycroft had made sure of that, but in the end, neither of them were invincible. He had scars on his body from miscalculations he had made, scars she ran her fingers over and kissed when they were bathed only in the moonlight on whomever’s bed they were occupying. He didn’t want to see marks like those dotting her skin.

Still...this is what she wanted. He would oblige. He closed the folder with a snap and then nodded. “Then tomorrow night, dress in your finest. We have a case to solve.”

She gave him one of her rare smiles and then got up, pausing ever so briefly to kiss his cheek before going straight back to her mobile. He turned back to the folder and went to work learning everything he had to for the case. After all, their lives depended on it.


	2. Chapter 2

Right now he was thankful Anthea was so adept with a gun because he was in no condition to pull his out and use it.

He heard another shot and winced as he moved his arm to pull on the door. He _should_ have succeeded in picking the lock but the blood running down his arm from the shoulder wound had hindered things a bit. That was going to be fun to deal with: surgery to have the bullet removed, not being able to move his arm, physical therapy when the wound was done mending…

Of course, if they didn’t make it out of this situation alive, then it was a moot point.

A moment later he felt the door give and he was able to open it. Having to use his non-dominant arm made it harder, as the door was solid metal behind the oak finish of the paneling, but he got it open enough for both of them to get into the secret exit he knew had been built into the building. “Andrea!” he yelled, using her real name for the moment and not her cover.

There was another shot and then she came over. “Good,” she said before pushing him inside and then following, closing the door behind them and nodding when there was a click and emergency lights filled the walkway they were facing. “Now, you idiot, let me see your injury.”

“I am not an idiot,” Sherlock grumbled, carefully shrugging out of his suit jacket. The tuxedo was ruined by the bullet hole in the shoulder area, which irritated him because this was one of the ones he had gotten at Mycroft’s expense. He winced when she probed the wound with her fingers, even though she was unbelievably gentle, and tried not to look at the worry on her face. She was going to use anger as her chosen mask, berate him for goading the suspect, for not being quick enough.

But she surprised him by being quiet and leaning over, tearing off a strip of fabric from her dress and then another, and then a third. She ripped one of the thick ones to tie over the wound, making it thinner so that she could tie them together and wrap it between the pit of his arm and the top of his shoulder to cover the wound, and then she took the two thinner straps and made a sling to keep him from moving it. “We head to Mycroft’s,” she said.

“Why?” he asked, groaning slightly.

“Because I can remove the bullet better there. I’ve done it before for others. And he had better medical supplies to boot.” She paused. “And good brandy.”

“Fair point,” Sherlock conceded, following as she began to make her way down the hallway. “He’ll find out about us, I suppose.”

“He knows already,” she said with a slight shrug. “I’m shagging his brother after dangerous cases. Trust me, he knew from the first time.”

“And he doesn’t stop you?” Sherlock asked, surprised.

“Apparently, he thinks I’m good for you.” A slight snort came from her then. “I expect I’ll be banned from your presence after tonight.”

“He can go toss himself in the Thames if he thinks this will keep us apart,” he said, using his good hand to reach for her hand. He could just see her lips edge up in a smile before she grasped it back tightly. Maybe, whatever they were was a bit more serious than either of them had expected it would become.


	3. Chapter 3

It took them nearly a half hour to navigate their way to the exit of the secret hallway, and they were lucky not to meet with resistance there. Sherlock had gotten the information they needed so once one of Mycroft’s drivers picked them up they headed to the Yard first so arrests could be made. Lestrade was on duty and looked at Sherlock’s injured state with some concern, but Sherlock assured him he was in good hands.

He certainly felt he would be, at any rate.

Lestrade insisted on having someone on staff check the wound to see if it was still bleeding and at least temporarily bandage it properly, plus he gave Sherlock one of Dimmock’s spare shirts to replace the damaged one. He slipped it on with a little difficulty and had to have help buttoning it, but soon he and Anthea left the yard and went to Mycroft’s.

Anthea let herself in, took in the interior and then turned to Sherlock.”He’s decided to stay in bed while I patch you up,” she said.

“Is that a good sign or a bad sign?” Sherlock asked.

“I’m not entirely sure,” she said thoughtfully. “Either way, it’s been a long night so he’ll see us in the morning. If he’s going to read us the riot act, that’s when he’ll do it.” She began to walk ahead. “Follow me.”

Sherlock nodded and followed her inside. He knew the layout of this home as well as he knew Baker Street, having spent enough time there against his will, but he had never seen the section of his brother’s home that Anthea had claimed as her own. He wasn’t surprised it was what would have been considered the servant’s quarters, the one area that had held no interest to him before, but what _did_ surprise him was that Mycroft had allowed her to decorate the area herself. It held a warmth that the rest of Mycroft’s home lacked, with warm colored fabrics on everything, rugs with bright patterns that were not Asiatic like Mycroft’s oriental rugs, comfortable chairs to sit in...he had the feeling he was seeing much more of the true side of his paramour than he had before.

She led him to an area she had set up as a triage area, and he wondered how often she was involved in things that injured her or others when he wasn’t involved. As much as he had learned of her in the time that had passed, there was so much he _didn’t_ know. He had never been able to read her the way he had been able to read others, in that he could only read what she allowed him to. He’d always had the feeling some of the things he thought he knew about her were patently false, and he knew know he’d probably been right all along.

She had him take the shirt off and then got to work, extricating the bullet from the injured area of his shoulder, patching up the wound, disinfecting it. She did so quickly and efficiently and he nearly bit his tongue to keep from asking just how often she had done this.

“More times than I would like,” she said, and he turned to look at her as she placed a bandage over the wounds. “I am MI-6 trained, after all. I was medical staff before I started working for your brother. It’s an asset to your brother to have someone who can patch up anyone he might need to hide for a bit, along with performing the regular duties of a PA.”

“I would imagine,” Sherlock murmured, watching her work. Her hands were shaking, just the lightest of tremors, as she finished taping the bandage to his skin and he grasped them, causing her to close her eyes. “Why…?”

“I normally don’t care,” she said, the words quiet on her tongue. “I normally never care about any of my lovers. But you...dammit, I do care, and you could have died. You think you’re invincible, your brother has always said as much, and it’s true. I could have--”

He cut her off with a kiss, by far the most passionate one they had shared in all this time, and even though his shoulder ached beyond belief he began to divest her of her clothing. Damn it all for making it to a bed, he needed her, now.

And by her response, he was sure she needed him too.


	4. Chapter 4

He woke up the next morning, naked in an unfamiliar bed, his lover curled up against him, just as naked as he was.

No, she was more than that now. They were...something more than simply lovers. Something more than the simple label of “girlfriend.” She was...his, in a way she had never been before. A partner who held a piece of him close that he had willingly given her. A mate, even if that was an archaic term. Their relationship was different now, and it was deeper, more complex.

He gathered her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her hair and shutting his eyes again, content to sleep with her as long as they were able. The sun wasn’t even out yet but if he had his way, they would sleep for a while longer and then...well, more intimate desires were battling with the idea of food.

The clearing of a throat told him he wouldn’t get what he wanted, and he opened one eye to see his brother standing in the doorway.

“If you cost me my PA, Sherlock, I will be most upset,” Mycroft said.

Sherlock disentangled himself from her and reached around for his pants. They had, somehow, managed to make it to the bedroom before that particular piece of clothing had come off, for which he was eternally grateful right now. He stood, not caring that he was starkers, and put them on before looking for his trousers. “Your case could have cost your PA me,” he said quietly. “I’d be more worried about her reaction.”

He could see Mycroft staring at the bandage when he turned around, and he nodded slightly. “I don’t want harm to come to her.”

“I will never purposefully hurt her,” Sherlock said. “Never.”

Mycroft stared and then nodded before turning. “No riot acts will be read today. Join me for breakfast in the hall in a half hour.” With that, he left the doorway and left the two of them in peace.

“He cares, in his own way,” Anthea said from the bed, stirring and sitting up.

“Obviously,” Sherlock said, giving up his search for his trousers to sit back on the bed. He reached for her, pulling her close, kissing her greedily, as though the night before had not been enough. And that was true; it wasn’t. He wanted her as often as he could have her, as often as she would allow. He would never get enough of her, he knew that. Maybe one day he would have the words to tell her. But for now, as she leaned back into the mattress and pulled him with her, nibbling on his lower lip and eliciting a groan from him, he would just let his actions show that whatever their relationship had morphed into, he wanted it. 

Now and forever.

Whatever might come.


End file.
